Krista Ritchie

Kiss the sky with me,” Connor whispers, a beautiful smile pulling his lips, “and don’t ever come down.”

“Girls. Definitely girls. But you’re not my type. I like someone who can intellectually spar with me.”

“I’m going to take you so hard, you’re going to come with every thrust. And when you’re swollen and wet, all it’s going to take is me inside of you. I won’t even have to move for you to cry out.”

I won’t have to taxingly explain to her menu items in a real French restaurant.” He knows she’s fluent? “I won’t have to explain financial statements or dividends. I’ll be able to discuss anything and everything in the world, and she’ll have an answer.”

He follows my gaze. “I won’t charge extra.”

His head jerks back in surprise. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Rose Calloway?”

Light brown hair, short on either side, full on top. Decently toned body hidden beneath a pair of faded Dockers and a black crew-neck tee. Cheekbones that cut like ice and eyes like liquid scotch. Loren Hale is an alcoholic beverage and he doesn’t even know it.

“In this moment, I’m yours.”

Sometimes I wonder about his desires. Maybe he does want to be with me. Or maybe he’s still pretending

You’re a permanent fixture in my life. You’re not going anywhere.